


Voler

by thefairyprincev (QueenOfThePolarBears)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Drabble Collection, Multi, Non-Chronological
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfThePolarBears/pseuds/thefairyprincev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voler. French. Verb meaning 'to fly'; travel through the air, be airborne, or 'to steal'; take without owner's consent, move stealthily. </p>
<p>A collection of Mito-centric drabbles, because she really deserves some attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voler

**Author's Note:**

> Blame the fact that I'm putting together a cosplay for her, made a blog for her, and am majorly sleep deprived from writing a term paper.

               As a young girl, Mito’s favourite time of day had been sunset. She would sit on her mother’s lap on the back porch, and watch as the setting sun turned the water surrounding her home the colours of fire, streaked with pink and blue. She would listen to her mother telling stories about their history, as a clan, a land, a _family._

               She listened to stories of the Sage, and his wife. The first recorded Uzumaki in history. The first recorded master of sealing.

               “When I grow up,” she declares, with all the worldly wisdom a six year-old can possess, “I am going to be like her.” She is going to master the family art of sealing. The Uzushio art of sealing. She is going to be just as beautiful, and strong, and elegant as the Sage’s wife, all on her own.

               Her mother laughs, and says nothing as she brushes her daughter’s hair back into a tight braid, before coiling it up into a bun and pining it in place. Even here, on their network of islands, they are shinobi before anything else, and long hair will always be a vulnerability, despite its beauty.

               Mito sulks at her mother’s laughter, and turns around in a whirl of yellow summer kimono and fly-away strands of red hair. She stamps her foot. “Just watch me! I’m going to be the greatest I can be! And no one is going to stop me!”

\--X--

               As an adult, Mito’s favourite time of day is sunrise. She sits on the back porch of the house she shares with her husband, and sips tea, letting her waves of red hair fall loose, as she watches the sky lighten from the darkness of night, to the grey of dawn, and the brightness of day. She remembers nights spent with her own mother, as she thinks of her children, still sleeping in their beds.

               She tells them the stories she heard growing up, and smiles as they play pretend based on them. Her daughter tells her one day: “Mama, you’re like the wife of the Sage! Because Papa is a Sage! And you’re a seals mistress! Can I be like you when I grow up?” and she feels her heart swell with pride.

               She sits the little girl on her lap, hair more brown than red, and braids it. “You can be whoever you would like to be, when you grow up, dear one,” she says, as her own mother never said to her. Her daughter laughs, and then squirms off of Mito’s lap, to go running after her brothers instead, loose hair flying out behind her. Mito smiles.


End file.
